Creatures of Darkness
by RachyBaby09
Summary: -COMPLETED 9/28/08- An elaborate variation on the mysterious bond between Christine Daae & her Angel. A combination of elements in the book, musical, movie, and some original content by myself. A look behind the mask. My 1ST PHIC.
1. PROLOGUE

_"Yes he existed in flesh and blood even though he gave himself every appearance of a real ghost, a true phantom"- Gaston Leroux_

_"Past the point of no return, the final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return..." – The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

**BEFORE READING**

My entire life I have been fascinated by the three forms of "The Phantom of The Opera" (musical, film, and book). I love writing, and felt an unavoidable need to express my personal interpretation of this beautiful tale. As much I as tried and tried, I could not decide on which form of the story to use. After much thinking, I came to this decision: All three mediums express the story in its own unique and inspirational perspective. I am going to express my story through a combination of ALL THREE. I intend to pick out the scenes, chapters, and songs I find most inspiring. And, I have addded totally original content here and there, as well. These three elements will be condensed in THIS one form. The first several chapters represent my philosophical view of the two main characters. My story begins after I establish Erik and Christine's nature.

This is my first fanfic, so I am pretty nervous. Please drop any comments or suggestions you have. Thank you for your interest! Enjoy.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Christine Daae and "The Phantom of The Opera": two lost creatures, beautiful in their own, distinct forms. A beauty and beast? Far from it. The yin and yang of passion, romance, and desire? Perhaps.

Both of these unusual beauties faced very alike obstacles: suppression of emotion, withdrawal from humanity, and imprisonment in their own self doubts. One was stranger to compassion, love, acceptance, and kindness; the other, an object of it.

One haunted by the loss of her "pillar of strength," the other haunted by his disfigurement, and both by each other. How the two came to know one another is the tale of "The Phantom's Opera," a tale of true desire and passion.

* * *

**QUOTATIONS FROM INTERVIEWS**

I felt it would be interesting to collect several quotes from the creators, actors and actresses that have portrayed "The Phantom of The Opera" over the years. It is fascinating to see their own interpertation. I will update with Crawford, Brightman, Rossum, and Webber quotations soon.

"Well we'd just seen Gerry. I think he wanted somebody who had that authority and was handsome. The thing is, he's a big hunk isn't he? All I can say, if you look at his chat line, or the Phantom website, it's quite worrying. Because the girls really seem to love him." - Andrew Lloyd Webber (On his response to Joel's immediate connection with Butler)

"I think the physical deformity represented emotional deformities; things inside ourselves which don't allow us fully to be open to love or to be loved. It was more the effect of that deformity that I was focusing on and it was more of an interior journey into my own dark spaces. What I identified with was the effect of pain and loneliness and fear and vulnerability that he felt as a result of having this (deformity). " - Gerard Butler

"This movie has recreated the world of the Phantom, of the Paris Opera House in a dark, luscious (way). And you can claim it and abandon yourself to a romantic, tragic love story, but it's also..I forgot what I was going to say." - Gerard Butler

"Without sounding pretentious, I felt his soul - all his passion and his hopes and frustrations and, in the end, his tragedy. It was like it was happening to me and I judge whether or not to do a part based on how easily I slip into it while reading the script." - Gerard Butler

"But I think the hardest part was really dealing with the characters' emotional complexity, which is the way I saw her: a girl who's very fragile, very lonely, very vulnerable, easily manipulated. That's something that grows in strength during the course of the story. She really kind of becomes a woman. And that, for her, to hold feelings and a very dark sexuality." - Emmy Rossum

* * *

**A DISCLAIMER**

I do not own any form of rights on the characters and situations in this story. It belongs solely to the geniuses Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. This is merely my personal interpretation of their stories. Thank you!

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE **

The first chapter of the STORY is "THE PHANTOM'S LABYRITH." Please leave me comments and suggestions! Thank you!


	2. PROMISING TALENT, VERY PROMISING

**PROMISING TALENT, VERY PROMISING**

The rare beauty, Christine Daae, was no doubt gifted with the voice of an angel. Unfortunately, this was a mystery to almost all, even herself. She was young, stranger to fame and fortunate, naïve, and concealed within her own distresses. Perhaps, it was the tragedy of her loving father's death that inevitably withdrew her from the stage. He was, indeed, her best friend, and a pillar of strength and love. Without him, her future seemed rather dismal.

Her father's dying words continually haunted her fragile mind, "When I am in heaven child, I shall send you an angel, an _angel of music_." With undying loyalty, she continued to sing her soul out, in hope of her angel's arrival.

* * *

_"Angel of Music! Hide no longer! Secret and strange angel..." - Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

"…_for now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind." – Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_


	3. HE'S THERE, DEEP DOWN BELOW

**HE'S THERE, DEEP DOWN BELOW**

"_Despite the ugliness of Erik's face: had he not been so cursed, he indeed, would have been the most distinguished of all men!" (Gaston Leroux paraphrased)_

_"Persons visited by the angel quiver with a thrill unknown to the rest of mankind" -Gaston Leroux_

"_If I am the Phantom, it is because man's hatred has made me so... If I shall be saved, it will be because your love redeems me." – The Phantom (Lon Chaney's Phantom)_

* * *

There existed one individual who knew well of Christine's potential. The Opera Populaire grew to know this shadowy figure as "their O.G." or "Phantom." He fascinated some, annoyed others, and frightened many. The Phantom was an unusually clever, secretive, and deceitful creature. He knew all the prime methods of rattling the occupant's bones: when to appear, disappear, and be heard.

Christine Daae often sang in privacy and prayer, humbly - unnoticed. Or so she _believed_. She sang for her dear father's spirit, for her own self recognition, and for her long awaited angel.

A quiet night, much like all other nights, Christine's angel finally arrived. The dim chapel echoed with a voice so soothing, so peaceful, and so reassuring – it could have only been the voice of an angel.

_No earthbound human could ever posses such a sweet sound. _Christine told herself.

The song of her angel was sad, lonesome, and a cry for affection. "My Angel of Music?" Christine questioned, feeling rather foolish.

"_Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance." – The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

The spirit bellowed, "I am your angel of music. Come to the angel of music." And so she did.


	4. THAT FATE WHICH CONDEMS ME

**THAT FATE WHICH CONDEMNS ME**

_"I am not really wicked. Love me, and you will see!" - Erik (Gaston Leroux)_

"…_has also denied me the joys of the flesh…" – The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"No one in the world needs me...no one ever will..." - Erik (Susan Kay)_

* * *

Why had the Angel of Music waited so long before approaching Christine? What had kept his need for isolation alive? This being was not an apparition, invention of the mind, or even "angel" (at least in one's general conception of divinity). No, he was much more complex. He possessed an ocean of passions, desires, longings, emotions, and doubts. His humanity was what transcended his existence. We will refer to him as _Erik_.

Erik's desires fueled his motives.

Erik's passions fueled his creativity.

Erik's longings caused him to crave affection, intimacy, "joys of flesh," and love.

Yet, most importantly, his humanly emotions and doubts doomed his poor soul.

_Despite his every human flaw, he was still in a way the Angel of Music._

Deep under the Opera Populaire laid Erik's elaborate kingdom. And what a magnificent kingdom it was! Down in this labyrinth, this pit of darkness, Erik was never alone. He and his beautiful music were always keeping one another company. This fascinating man was a mastered artist of every medium: a composer, painter, author, architect, and more. The true crime was not so much Erik's doomed fate; it was the worlds'. Who would have ever imagined that this "O.G." was robbing them of such artistic phenomena? Erik was more knowledgeable about the marvels of the world than, dare I say, even the worldliest man. He could focus a telescope so meticulously as to set eyes on any celestial body he wished. His plethora of books, books, and more books taught him these simple marvels, which many take for granted. With time, Erik came to accept the idea that he would, most likely, never actually _operate_ a telescope.

_He was knowledgeable of the things of life, but not in their significances. _

As for Miss Daee… He had observed her in shadows many, many years. He chuckled at memories of her playful youth. He sighed at the thought of her womanhood. Although Erik saw very few "beauties" over his lifespan, he was firmly convinced that Christine was the fairest of all women. He was right.

His struggle was not because the world could not accept him. It was because Erik was unable to _accept himself_.


	5. THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL OF MUSIC

**THE LEGEND OF THE ANGEL OF MUSIC**

"_Then the people who do not know that the Angel has visited those persons say that they have genius." – Daae (Gaston Leroux) _

* * *

Erik found himself paying visits to an eager Christine Daae more and more over the next months. Erik's sessions with the stuggling child had been very successful; her voice and confidence had greatly improved. He was flattered by her admiration – never had he experienced any sort of true human affection. Pity maybe, but not affection. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that Christine, such a breathtaking beauty, would gift him with her love. The only other individual Erik came to know was _Madame Giry_.

Madame Giry sheltered Erik from the "world and its cruelties." She hid the youngster away within the deepest, most mysterious parts of the opera house. Madame Giry recognized how _it had been his playground and later transformed into his artistic domain_.

Madame Giry was a strict natured ballet instructor. Constantly she pushed the young "opera brats," quite often to a breaking point. Despite her seemingly stubborn nature, Madame Giry was in reality very motherly. Meg Giry, her bright spirited daughter, lived in the opera bedchambers alongside quite a few others. Christine was taken under Madame Giry's care shortly after her father passed.

Christine's father held quite similar quirks as Erik. This was, perhaps, a leading factor in Christine's trusting bond with her angel. Mr. Daae had confidence in Christine's singing ability ever since he first heard that sweet voice eject from those youthful lungs. Mr. Daae was quite the storyteller. His tales were wide in genre: dark, horrific ones of the North, amusing ones, and various others. Yet, Mr. Daae found a way to include "The Legend of The Angel of Music "in most all his stories. He had hoped this myth would aid in inspiring little Christine's aspirations, long after he ascended into heaven. And it most certainly did.

The Legend of the Angel of Music (according to Daae): "Every great form of musician, every great artist received a visit from the Angel of music at least once in his life. Sometimes the Angel leans over their cradle, as happened to Lotte, and that is how there are little prodigies who play the fiddle at six better than men at fifty, which, you must admit, is very wonderful. Sometimes, the Angel comes much later, because the children are naughty and won't learn their scales. And, sometimes, he does not come at all, because the children have a bad heart or a bad conscience.

No one ever sees the Angel; but he is heard by those who are meant to hear him. He often comes when they least expect him, when they are sad or disheartened. Then their eyes suddenly perceive celestial harmonies, a divine voice, which they remember all their lives. Persons who are visited by the Angel quiver with a thrill unknown to the rest of mankind. And they cannot touch an instrument, or open their mouths to sing, without producing sounds that put all other human sounds to shame. Then the people who do not know that the Angel has visited those persons say that they have genius." (Gaston Leroux)

When young Christine innocently asked her father if he had been visited by the Angel of Music, he sadly shook his head, "You will hear him one day, my child! When I am in heaven, I will send him to you."

Erik fell in love with Christine's voice the very moment it graced his well tuned, sensitive ears_. _He observed the young, lost adolescent for years. Erik silently watched over little Christine from numerous locations: her dressing room, the chapel, and almost anywhere else he was able to conceal himself in the mysterious shadows. Erik gradually began to understand that she was in need of his guidance as much as he was in desperate need for her affection. One cold, lonesome night as Christine prayed to her late father, she mourned louder and more severe than ever before. Erik's brittle heart ached. How he longed to break through the mirror and sing her sorrows away.

_Granted, her voice was not flawless. _Erik acknowledged_. _Never had she received formal training_. Erik, from that day forth, decided he would take her under his blackened wing. He would offer Christine Daae the priceless gift of music. _


	6. THE PHANTOM'S LABYRITH

**THE PHANTOM'S LABYRITH **

**CHAPTER ONE**

"_My power over you grows stronger yet…"- The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Christine's heavy eyes slowly peeled open. Her limp body was in the hold of a tall, mysterious, caped man. His strong hands tightly clutched her womanly curves. His heavy footsteps echoed the endless, dim corridors. Where was this stranger taking her? Christine ferociously squirmed in his thick arms.

"Who are you? And where are you taking me!..." The strange man did not respond. "Let me go! They will be looking for me. Release me before they discover what you have done!"

She struggled in his grip, desperately trying to free herself; it was no competition against his powerful grasp. Her eyes adjusted to the dark atmosphere – she vaguely recognized her surroundings. It was the mystifying underground labyrinth of the opera. She had ventured down to this underground pit only a few times during her residency at Opera Populaire. After Madame Giry's harsh scolding, Christine and Meg never returned to the darkness. Until this day, its threatening, dark corridors and misty lake never had escaped her mind. Her heart thumped against his firm chest; her hands wrapped around his hips.

The caped man gently laid Christine in a gondola that resided on the bewitching lake. At this point, Christine was at loss of words, too frightened to speak. The mysterious man pushed the gondola from its stone walkway, carefully maneuvering it through the hazy water. He glanced down at his breathtaking hostage. Christine's luscious, brunette hair suggestively framed her tiny figure. Her tightened corset enhanced her well endowed bosom. Christine's heavy breathing drew his eyes to her perfect figure.

This fleshy display is nearly more than my manly desire's can handle, thought the abductor. Never had he been so near to such overwhelming femininity. He deeply ached to reach out to her, to experience a woman's touch and embrace. Never had Erik experienced a woman's touch. His own mother would not dare to give him even the simplest kiss. He remembered, as a young boy, reaching out for her comfort; only to have her holler and throw him his mask with quivering fear and shame.

Oh, how Erik's soul would have soared if he knew Christine's current thoughts… Why am I not in fear for my life? What about this mysterious shape overwhelms my senses and thoughts? What is so appealing about his unusual charisma?

That was the exact explanation of her fascination: never had she been exposed to such unorthodox seduction. What a forbidden, enticing experience this was.

This was, indeed, what the darkest, most tainted, forbidden, erotic fantasies are composed of.

The darkness suddenly lightened tremendously. Alas, they had reached the Phantom's throne! Dozens of candelabras magnificently lit _Erik's _residence. Who would have known this small taste of heaven could be found deep in this hellish hole?

Christine's eyes ran over his tall shape. She could just make out his muscular physique which was hidden in his dress clothes and heavy cape. Erik noticed her interest; he became a bit flustered. The sensuality of her surroundings and a certain erotic appeal of her kidnapper eliminated Christine's fear. Suddenly, she felt herself uncontrollably craving his lustful touch and affection. Wide eyed, she followed him into his magical home.

He offered his hand to her; she accepted with fascination. Those powerful eyes penetrated her soul. She could not help but wonder why this masculine individual was hiding half his face with a white, porcelain mask. The exposed portion of his face was considerably attractive. He was smoothly shaven, had a broad chin, and boasted a sinful grin. How she yearned to experience the rest of him! Whose is the shape in the shadows… whose is the face in the mask?

With his heavenly voice, the Phantom soothed his Angel, "I have brought you, to the seat of sweet music's throne!" Christine immediately recognized that tantalizing, magical voice. That voice which had echoed her dressing room, the chapel, and her mind for so many mesmerizing months.

"It is you! My Angel of Music! Oh, what endless longings!"

Erik dropped to his knees, overtaken with merciless guilt. He plead with utmost humility. Noticing his desperation, his hysteria, and his humanity, "You are a _man_!"

He mourned at her feet, "It is true, my dearest Christine!.. I am not an Angel, nor a genius, nor a ghost… I am Erik!"


	7. INTO ERIK'S UNDERWORLD

**INTO ERIK'S UNDERWORLD**

**CHAPTER TWO**

"_His voice filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound, in that night there was music in my mind… and through music, my soul began to soar… Yet in his eyes, all the sadness of the world… Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore." – Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Christine rubbed her soft eyelids. Her eyes opened, soaking in her surroundings. She was alone in a dim, fairly small room. Candelabras subtly brought light to the darkness; worn out Victorian style furniture dressed the room… a moth-eaten sofa chair, significantly chipped mahogany armoire, and short stool which had one of its legs amputated. In the far left corner resided the most peculiar object of all: a wooden coffin. After taking in her bizarre surroundings, Christine examined herself. Her thin dress was covered by a soft, woolen robe. She had been sleeping on a bundle of comfortable, worn in pillows. She tried to make sense of this absurdity.

Cautiously, Christine rose from her pillowy- sanctuary. It suddenly hit her… _I remember. _She exited the cramped room, which led directly to Erik's lavished throne. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness of his lair. A soft, sweet melody echoed in a far corner; Erik was creating beautiful, tantalizing music with his organ. His voice softly moaned, entwined in his sad song.

Christine reminisced to herself… _I remember there was mist, swirling mist upon a vast, glassy lake. There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat…_

"And in the boat… there was a man" sang out a hypnotized Christine. Erik immediately paused, completely unsure of what he was to do or say. Suddenly, he felt Christine's warm, tender hands caressing his exposed flesh. Erik thought how this sweet touch was the first time a woman had ever laid her hands upon his cursed face. His eyes closed in peace. He had just experienced his first taste of love.

She, quite naively, was able to see past Erik's humanity. This unearthly voice he possessed had to be a product of divinity. In her youthful eyes, his cape merely represented his blackened, angelic wings. The porcelain side of his face, she thought, was no more than an angel's white, pure expression. She wondered if this porcelain was really a part of Erik's self; he had no need for a mask. His face was actually, Christine fantasized, half human and half divine. Half white porcelain, half man. Half angel, half human. Half heavenly, half Erik…

"Whose was that shape in the shadows… whose is the face in the _mask_?" she cried to Erik. These curious words barely entered his consciousnesses; he was far too lost in Christine's caring touch.

He felt her curious fingers start to venture under his porcelain mask, preparing to peel it off his pitiful face, in hopes to confirm her sweet assumptions. He tensed. It may seem a bit silly, but Erik so badly wanted to print _"Fragile: Handle with care"_ across his perspiring forehead.

Before she was able to remove his disguise, Erik madly threw her helpless self to the stone, damp floor. She lay on the ground, fully at the Phantom's mercy, shivering with fear and coldness. Her long hair draped over her frightened face; she made no attempt to move it from her eyes. She dared not to make eye contact with the troubled man.

Erik's devastatingly beautiful song filled her little ears, "Fear can turn to love, you'll learn to _see to find_ the man behind the monster…" She was bewildered by his sad words. What monster was he referencing? Surely not himself!

Erik joined the speechless, scared child on the ground. He slid his lifeless body across the stone flooring, trying so hard to not show emotion. Erik behaved like the sly serpant in the Garden of Adam and Eve, the serpant that tempted Eve to bite the forbidden fruit; and now, this creature was pathetically slithering across the ground, hissing and all! He had learned over his thirty some years of life that emotion equaled vulnerability, and vulnerability too often mutated into heartbreak.

She felt his cold hand sweeping her hair from her shaking face. There she saw it: a most humble, kind man, pleading to earn her trust, lay before her. Christine's wide eyes met Erik's heartbroken ones. He slowly brought one of her little hands to his warm lips. Erik gently pressed his kisses over her skin with a saddening frown. How her heart ached for his troubles! His long fingers tickled Christine's swan-like neck; she flinched with a sensational delight. His deathly fingers pressed the cold porcelain tightly to his ruined flesh. Erik was more thankful than ever before that he was able to hide in his mask; for evidence of his growing love for Christine resided beneath it: a tear.

He realized she was in need of an explanation for his odd, mysterious behavior.

"You shall be forever safe and protected, dearest Christine…As long as you remember to never attempt to remove Erik's mask again…or so much as question its purpose. For if you do, my dearest, you shall be doomed to this hell for eternity! And that monstrous face of Erik's shall haunt you until your death. Never would you escape the underworld and all its demons. Dearest, I assure you, you will forever be captive in Erik's wrath! You would leave Erik no choice…"

Christine's eyes widened; she grew terrified of this mysterious creature.

"Erik has not frightened you, dear Christine? Do not be! Please, sweet Christine. Erik's underground palace is yours as well… Erik hopes you slept well in his humbled room… and that the woolen robe he so carefully knit for you kept you warm…"

Christine could not understand why Erik spoke of himself in the third person. But, she dared not to question this 'Erik.'

Was He angelic? Demonic? A fallen Angel? Or, simply a saddened man?

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I adopted Erik talking in third person from the original novel. Although, it may not seem to be consistent with the rest of my interpretation of his story, I felt it somehow demonstrates his disconnect from society and a human soul. Please, please give me all your suggestions and comments!


	8. PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW

**PARTING IS SUCH SWEET SORROW**

**CHAPTER THREE**

_"Bravi, bravi, bravissimi..." - The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Erik wished with all his soul that he could keep his sweet Angel captive for eternity, willfully submitting herself to an eternity in his prison. His Christine was so different from his own, pitiful self. He was growing to care for the young girl far too severely to rob her of freedom. As long as she remained the mask of his song, sharing it with the "human race," he would be satisfied. It was the only opportunity, Erik sincerely believed, of ever being accepted; even loved. Erik was completely confident that anyone and everyone would fall in love with her angelic voice. As the legend says, she would put all other human sounds to shame, for she had been visited by the Angel of Music.

By now, I am confident, that one would not believe Erik to be a product of heavenly divinity. For angels are God sent; never would they become jealous or possessive, obsessed and craving human intimacy. This simply would not be consistent with the generally accepted concept of "Angels". But, this truth could inevitably lead one to severe confusion: if Erik was not an "omnipresent being," how in God's name was he capable of knowing Daae's "Angel of Music's Legend?" As stated before, Erik possessed an ocean of passions, desires, and so on.

His curious and somewhat "nosey" characteristic was to thank for this knowledge. Ms. Daee, being the emotionally troubled young lady she was, often expressed her suppressed thoughts in a diary. One fine evening Erik's curiosity got the best of him… After Christine had fallen in a deep, peaceful sleep, Erik kidnapped her diary and read every single entry – over and over, savoring every word, every page, and every sentence. He was sure to do this nightly. It became an exciting ritual for him. Christine poured her mind and soul in this diary each night to Erik's satisfaction. Through her thoughts, Erik came to know his Christine better than anyone else had known her.

Erik often reminisced about a specific entry:

_" Where is my Angel which my father promised me? Why had he not yet visited me? Had my dear father, imprisoned in a selfish heaven, forgotten to send him, forgotten me? Never would I be able to carry out my musical dream, my musical destiny – without my Angel's guidance."_

After reading her sad story, Erik truly felt he was an angel. His unearned fate was so cruel, so vile… no God would sentence an innocent person to hell on earth. Perhaps, he convinced himself, he was created this foul way, cursed in this utterly flawed soul and face, merely to guide his Christine… maybe I am the Angel of Music.

Unfortunately, with time, he decided his hypothesis was proven wrong. His self destructive emotions and cravings dismissed Erik's hopeful theory.

_I will selflessly guide Christine, my angel, regardless of truth… _


	9. CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS

**CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"_Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing…" – Daae (Gaston Leroux)_

_"No what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!" - Raoul & Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)  
_

* * *

"Go on! Go on! Tell me all you heard, Raoul!" Christine barked at Raoul. Attempting to restrain his overflowing emotions, "I heard him reply, when you said you had given him your soul…" Raoul regained control of his temper… "He replied to you, Christine, 'Your soul is a beautiful thing, child, and I thank you. The angels wept tonight'…" Christine's youthful eyes widened; she began to shake. The past evening had been significantly overwhelming for Christine. She could barely recall what he was referring to … _What man had I "given my soul to?"_ Raoul grew increasingly impatient. Christine suddenly began to remember…

"There was a man in your dressing room, Christine Daae! Someone you did not wish for anyone else to know of!" Raoul cried out with a pained heart. He noticed her fear and sadness. He felt foul for losing his temper. Raoul calmly sat himself beside Christine. "Have you forgotten all about that young man who rescued your scarf from the sea, so many years ago, dearest Christine Daae?" Christine could not help but smile at his words.

She reminisced on her happy childhood. She and Raoul had been fond of each other several wonderful years ago – childhood sweethearts, one could say. They spent endless evenings eagerly listening to Daae's exciting tales around eerie campfires. He would often soothe the young children with beautiful melodies on his Violin. Raoul and Christine lost contact after her father's passing. Christine's whole life was shattered. She never had recovered from her dear father's tragic death.

"Did your father ever tell you I loved you, and could not live without you, Christine?" Her eyes filled with warm tears. "Oh Raoul! You are dreaming, dear!" blushed Christine. "No, I am quite serious… Christine, have you forgotten! I am here in regards to your letter! How can you accuse me a dreamer, when it _is your own letter_ that brought me back into your arms, Mademoiselle Daae!"

Carlotta, the infamous prima donna of Opera Populaire, fell mysteriously ill four evenings ago. The two new mindless managers had just begun their reign over Opera Populaire; they broke out in hysteria when they were informed of the prima donnas' sudden illness. Madame Giry proposed to let chorus girl, Christine, audition for them. All was pleasantly surprised and Christine landed Carlotta's role. Overjoyed, Christine immediately wrote to Raoul. She wanted to share her special evening in his missed company.

Raoul was fascinated by Christine's flawless voice during her debut. After the performance, without hesitation, he rushed to her dressing room. He wanted to be the first to congratulate beautiful Christine. But, he discovered he was too late; her room echoed with a _man's roaring voice_. Overwhelmed with jealousy, Raoul attempted to barge in on Christine and her admirer. To his dismay, her dressing room was locked. Raoul sadly spilled his heart out, "I heard you cry out to the man… 'I sang only for you tonight… I gave you my soul!'…"

Christine eloquently reassured her long lost love. "Raoul there is no one for me but you and only you!" Raoul and Christine finally embraced each other after all these prolonged years. Raoul and Christine cradled one another in their limp arms, rhythmically rocking each other, soaking up each other's affection. "You shall never escape the comfort of my arms again, my sweet Lotte."

Erik's cold tears rained from his eyes behind her mirror. His hand lay dead over his pounding chest. Erik felt his weak heart burning and tightening. He returned to hell with a breaking heart.

"_...and now, how you've repaid me... denied me and betrayed me..."– The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I would greatly appreciate any feedback or suggestions pertaining to this chapter, positive or negative! Raoul is an important character, I don't want to mess him up! Thank you!


	10. VOICE IN THE MIRROR

**VOICE IN THE MIRROR**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"_Mirrors can kill, Daroga. You may safely take my word on that." – Erik (Susan Kay)_

"_Wildly my mind beats against you, yet my soul obeys.__" – Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Christine lethargically lounged in her dressing room. She was warmed by the thoughts of her exciting future with Raoul. But, at the same moment, the thought of_ never hearing her loving Angel_ so perfectly whisper her name again, paralyzed her heavy heart with tremendous, pounding fear. Lifelessly, she stood up, lightly stretching her long, elegant limbs. Suddenly, Erik's joyless voice echoed her room; Christine immediately tensed. His song was so miserable, so devastating, so incredibly lonesome and spiritless. Erik's voice softly projected pitiful moans, sighs, cries, and whines. Christine's eyes began to swell with tears. Tears for _her_ Erik. Every few notes his voice would start to break off, for he was choking on his thick tears. Christine wiped a descending tear from her eye. Her sweet heart was unable to stomach his devastating song. Christine had grown a deep, profound attachment to his soothing voice. How she yearned to _have just one last lesson_ from her passionate Angel of Music.

Without thinking, Christine passionately cried out, "My beautiful Angel! Your song is so sad, my Angel…"

Erik shivered behind her mirror. _How could my sweet Christine refer to me, this foul monster, as beautiful? _Eagerly, Erik observed her behind the cold glass. He savored her every expression, every movement, every sigh. Christine's face helplessly buried itself in those beautiful, delicate hands. She let out a subtle whimper.

Erik loudly wept, "Have you forgotten your Angel?…" Christine's hands slowly melted off her wistful face.

Christine suspiciously approached the mirror. Her fingers slowly grazed the cold glass. Erik propped his own fingers against the glass, tracing her movements. His entire body ached; he yearned to caress those pretty, soft little hands. He closed his eyes as he remembered how intriguing it felt to have her feminine hands caress his face; how every hair on his body had obediently stood up, and how each of his muscles had tightened. He could not help but ponder… _was that the first and last time I would know a woman's affectionate stroke?_ A few tears escaped Christine's heavy eyes. "Erik's eyes weep for your sadness, my dearest!"

"My Angel, sing for me… How I long, just once more, for your sweet song that fills my soul with music…Erik…"

Erik was utterly shocked; Christine so carelessly merged 'Angel' and 'Erik' in _the same sweet sentence_. A hopeful thought wildly danced in Erik's mind: _Perhaps, Christine's heart not only holds a spot for the Angel of Music, but my humanly mind, body, and soul as well… Erik. _After a moment of collecting his severely damaged emotions, Erik selflessly sang. He sang with his entire mind, body, and soul. His voice rang confidently, reassuringly, and passionately for his sweet Christine. He sang out to the best of his ability, stretching his mightly lungs to its limit. For, he began to fear,_ this may be our final, goodbye song_. Her eyes closed in a peaceful trance; her lips subtly curved upwards. Erik could not help but smile; he was both intrigued and aroused. The way his singing affected her youthful _innocence _warmed and comforted his soul.

Christine's hands lazily pressed up against the mirror; her gorgeous face rested on the cold, smooth glass. Erik pressed a warm kiss on her rosy cheek. He cursed the glass that, so selfishly, stood in the way of his affection. "Softly, deftly, music shall surround you . . . feel it, hear it, closing in around you . . ." She became completely absorbed in those magical, sensual words, uncontrollably surrendering to his angelic voice. "…floating, falling, sweet intoxication…"

Raoul's anxious voice rang from just outside the dressing room, "My dear, Christine! Mademoiselle Daae! Whose is that voice in there?" The door shot open.

"Oh, Christine! Christine!" Even Raoul's panicked yells could not waken Christine from her sensual peace. His eyes widened as he glanced at Christine's figure, which was resting on the mirror's surface, deeply intoxicated by the _Phantom's tantalizing_ lyrics.

"_That_ man! What madness is this?"

The mirror rotated, sweeping her to the other side. Christine had vanished! Raoul yelped with fright and confusion. He violently shook the mirror, full of madness.

* * *

_"I saw your ecstasy AT THE SOUND OF THE VOICE, Christine: the voice that came from the wall or the next room to yours...yes, YOUR ECSTASY! And that is what makes me alarmed on your behalf. You are under a very dangerous spell." - Raoul (Gaston Leroux)_

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter, both positive and negative! Thanks!


	11. A HIGH MAINTANCE OPERA GHOST

**A HIGH MAINTANCE O.G.**

**CHAPTER SIX**

_"It's not a bad house," said Moncharmin, "for a house with a curse on it.'" - Moncharmin (Gaston Leroux)_

_"Good God! You people are all obsessed!" - Monsieur Firmin (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"He welcomes you to his opera house..." - Madame Giry (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"Every good Opera House must have a ghost." - Erik (Susan Kay)_

* * *

Away from Christine's dressing room, Raoul's mad love, and Erik's sad fate, existed an ignorant realm of chaos. When Erik was not lost in his music or soothing Christine, he was terrorizing the Opera Populaire.

The managers…

Only days before Christine's debut, two new absent minded managers, Andre and Firmin, adopted the opera house. They were partners in entrepreneurship; their most recent 'victory' – striking fortunate in the "junk business" (Or scrap metal, as they preferred). Their bloated heads and egos jumped at the opportunity of inheriting the world renowned "Opera Populaire." Andre and Firmin had not the slightest idea that they were truly adopting not only an opera house, but a small segment of hell…

Erik's latest 'love letter' to his new managers composed of the following:

"_MY DEAR MANAGERS:_

_If you care for peace, here is my ultimatum. It consists of the four following conditions: _

_I. You must always leave my private box, box five, available to my use; and I wish it to be at my free disposal from henceforward. _

_II. The part of Margarita shall be sung this evening by Christine Daae. Never mind about Carlotta; she will be ill. _

_III. I absolutely insist upon the good and loyal services of Madame Giry, my box-keeper, whom you will reinstate in her functions forthwith. _

_IV. Let me know by a letter handed to Madame Giry, who will see that it reaches me, that you accept, as your predecessors did, the conditions in my memorandum-book relating to my monthly allowance. I will inform you later how you are to pay it to me. _

_If you refuse, you will give FAUST to-night in a house with a curse upon it._

_Take my advice and be warned in time._

_Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,__ O.G."_

Erik was not fooling, for as we have learned, Carlotta fell mysteriously "ill" and Madame Giry had urged the managers to place Christine in the prima donnas' role – all on the same bizarre day of Christine's debut.

As for the infamous Carlotta... Well, Erik was sure she was not to interfere in his and Christine's big night.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

To those who have not read Gaston Leroux's novel: The _memorandum-book _is a book of guildelines Erik had written on how his opera house was to be run. It made refrence to payment, box five, etc.


	12. DOWN ONCE MORE

****

DOWN ONCE MORE

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"_Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves… Picture it: a man who lives in a palace underground!" – Raoul (Gaston Leroux)_

_"Down that path into darkness deep as hell!" - The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Realizing the absurd reality, Christine abruptly snapped out of her hypnosis. Erik towered over her small, delicate frame as she stared into her own dressing room with utter disbelief.

So this is how Erik had done it?... His secret window into my mind? In her bright room, Raoul was pacing about madly, cursing, and toying with the mirror. Christine attempted to cry out to her helpless Raoul; her yell was muffled by Erik's gloved hand. She struggled with great intensity.

Hissing into Christine's perked up ear, "Erik hates seeing his sweet Christine so terrified. Let Erik lead you to his home, where his angel can relax…" Even Erik's speaking voice is so flawlessly beautiful, Christine dared admit to herself.

"If Erik removes his hand from your soft mouth, do you give your word not to cry out?" Christine subtly nodded. She dared not to challenge his patience; she remembered his strange reaction one evening ago.

"Come with Erik, my dearest Christine."

Fear and coldness swept through Christine's fragile body in overbearing waves. Erik led timid Christine through the winding and seemingly endless corridors. She felt herself entangled in a thick cobweb; a squealing rat darted across the stone ground. Christine shuddered in disgust. Noticing her horror, Erik firmly grasped her delicate waist with his strong hand, hoping to relax and comfort her. Erik took this golden opportunity to relish her tiny waist; his gloved hands massaged and explored it. Erik could feel and hear his heart thumping with madness.

A massive white figure stood in one of the intimidating grand arches: Raoul's white stallion, Cesar! Christine gasped, covering her agape mouth. Erik hushed her, latched onto her shaking hand, and dragged her close to Cesar's greatness. Erik boosted her onto the stallion. With style, he mounted. He softly kicked Cesar's strong side. Christine tightly clutched onto Erik, securing herself, as the stallion proudly trotted through the darkness.

She could not understand how Cesar was able to maneuver so gracefully through the blackened hallways. Then, she realized, poor Cesar! The stallion must have been trapped down here for an outstanding amount of time, at minimum the past two evenings and days, completely at Erik's bay. Cesar's eyes were probably, by now, use to the darkness, and like a lab rat, probably had learned to memorize the maze of corridors. Poor, poor Cesar!

Erik felt her nails digging into his hard chest; her legs entwined with his own. Christine slipped a bit, projecting a weak yelp. "Tighten your grasp around Erik's secure waist." Not wanting to tumble off mighty Cesar, Christine obliged. She shifted her body closer to Erik's; they were completely one form. Each of Erik's aroused hairs saluted as her hot breath warmed his sensitive, thick neck.

Erik felt wetness stream down his neck's nape…a fallen tear. Christine's fallen tear! "Has Erik upset you, pretty Christine! Oh, curse Erik!" He felt Christine shake her downcast head.

After what seemed like years, Christine and Erik reached the gondola, which had been patiently waiting. He dismounted from Cesar. Erik was very tall, several inches over six foot, so it was easy for him to pull Christine from the magnificent creature's back.

Erik lifted his hand to her soft cheek, grazing it lovingly. He felt her lips tremble and teeth chatter beneath his silk glove. Because of the vast darkness, all she could see before her was Erik's "floating" porcelain mask. She would have easily mistaken it for a true phantom, had she not known any better. Erik's hand moved from her cheek and onto her blood red lips; she chewed them. He wrapped his hand around her small chin; she flinched and pushed his suggestive hand away. He took her hint.

Erik signaled Christine onto the gondola; she obeyed. His strong arms quickly propelled the boat through the murky water. With each fierce stoke, Christine grew slightly more at ease and enticed.

She noticed her Phantom's abdomen protruding through his clingy, silk shirt. She felt her cheeks redden. Erik's 'bird eye view' of Christine allowed his eyes to wander down her tight corset; her breasts were teasing his manly urges.

"Erik thinks you are more beautiful than the fairest and purest of God's heavenly angels."

Christine shyly turned her face, hiding her reddening cheeks. Erik's heart smiled at her childish innocence. Alas, they reached Erik's glowing kingdom. The gondola struck the stone tiling, jolting Christine from her dreamy mindset.

Erik leaped from the rocking boat, his cape dancing behind himself. Slowly, he peered over his broad shoulder at a hesitant Christine, only his porcelain half in her vision.

"Erik has something for his little Christine."

Christine gracefully stood. Erik wrapped his arms around bashful Christine, lifting her from the gondola as if she were no heavier than a toy doll. Clasping one of his oversized hand around both of her own, Erik eagerly led her to a crimson curtain. He flashed her a sinful smile as he tore away the flowing curtain, revealing a porcelain version of Christine, dressed in wedding clothes. Christine froze with shock; she turned as pale and lifeless as the mannequin before her.

Erik removed a thin, golden band from the mannequin's cold finger; he carefully slid it onto Christine's shaking hand.


	13. THE FACE OF THE VOICE

**THE FACE OF THE VOICE**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Christine could understand the meaning of this smoldering, golden band from the hopeful glare in Erik's deep eyes: a proposal. She could almost feel the warm gold burn through her flesh. Erik became impatient for her response. He delicately pressed his hand on her rosy cheek with a smile. In return, she pressed her own "engaged hand" on his rough, exposed skin. His glowing eyes closed in relief. Had I finally earned her affection?... Her commitment?... Even her love? Christine massaged his face as she watched his soul soar into heaven. She had to know his secret, enough deceit, enough lies! She had to know Erik – not Angel – but Erik. Holding her breath, Christine ripped his porcelain self from his face. There she saw Erik as he is: a disfigured genius. This deformity was severe. It had well earned its hibernation.

The newly exposed flesh could be described as the following:

His skin was covered in weltering rashes and ruined beyond repair, merely a yellowish discharge of corrupt human skin. The nostril caved in like a dark, forbidden path into hell. His eyebrow was completely gone. His frowning lip hung in misery, twitching. It occurred to Christine she had not only rid him of his mask, but hair as well. He must have been at least ten or fifteen years older than she had imagined, for the true pigment of his hair was a dusty grey. But, on his masked side, he had no hair at all: only scars and mounds of collapsed skin dressed his head. And a false ear! Erik had been harboring a false ear!

Now that she has seen the demon she shall curse the angel, Erik cried to himself.

Christine tried as best she could to refrain from screaming. She tried to concentrate on the opposite, non-cursed half of his face, which was quite beautiful. A hot tear streamed from his eyes. He brought his hand over his face, quivering in embarrassment.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED TO SEE? NOW YOU CAN NOT EVER BE FREE! STRANGER THAN YOU DREAMNT IT!" roared Erik, as he forced her to touch his face.

He pushed her fingers and nails into his skin, dragging them across his foul face. Christine felt debris of his dead skin collect under her nails. She grew queasy. He showed no hint of pain - had this doomed flesh grown numb to touch? He violently stuck a candelabra; it fell into the lake, its light perishing. Christine backed away, terrified. She had awoken a sleeping beast. He must have been truly traumatized, for this was the first time Erik's flawless voice sang well out of tune, almost painful to listen to as it shrieked and shrilled.

"Dearest, Christine!... What was your very first gift? Your first present? Do tell!... Wish to know Erik's? It was THIS MASK, FOR THIS FACE - from Erik's disgusted MOTHER! Alas, probably more a gift to herself than Erik..."

Christine collapsed to the stone floor, her dress soaking up water. Crying, Erik brought his face very close to her own, his hot breath burning through her skin.

"Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! Look at Erik's face! Now you know the face of the voice! You were not content to hear me, eh? You wanted to know what I looked like! Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? I'm a very good-looking fellow, eh?...When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves Erik – forever!"

Erik was silent for several haunting seconds, and then he continued, this time much more calmly, "Erik gives you back your liberty, Christine, on condition that this ring is always on your finger. But woe to you if you ever part with it, for Erik will have his revenge!"

Despite Erik's mad, terrifying outburst, and half a human face, Christine still saw her exqusite Angel before her eyes. A very tortured, scorned, Angel – with a bleeding heart.

Christine tenderly kissed the sour side of his face.

* * *

_"You are frightened...but do you love me? If Erik were good-looking, would you love me, Christine?" – Raoul (Gaston Leroux)_

_"Poor Erik!" - Christine Daae (Gaston Leroux)_

_"This face, the infection, which poisons our love..." - The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

"_Love me, for me!" – Erik (Gaston Leroux)_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I want to be sure to make note: the last two segments of Erik's dialogue are brilliant excerpts from Leroux's novel.


	14. ERIK'S FLAT

**ERIK'S FLAT**

**CHAPTER NINE**

After a sweet lingering moment, Christine pulled her pout lips away from his cursedness. She could taste his raw, expired flesh, but it did not bother her much. Again Christine stood on her tip toes, like the ballerina she was, and kissed him; this time his quivering lips… and his lips in its entirety, the handsome and miserable dead one. A few tears fell from Erik's eyes; Christine soaked them up with a red scarf. The same red scarf that had brought Raoul and her together.

The tragedy is this: Erik must have misread Christine's advances. He took her affection as an acceptance of his proposal. This first came to Christine's attention when she heard Erik's deep voice bellow, "Let Erik show you the rest of his and his bride's flat."

Christine's eyes enlarged; she could not bring herself to tell him the truth. I had deceived him far worse than he ever has fooled me she thought in horrible shame. Stroking her hand with an unusual confidence, Erik gave her a tour of the lair, commentary and all! This lair was much larger and more impressive then she had ever imagined.

"Here is the kitchen, my dear, where Erik will cook for you… Erik's musical throne, where he shall perform for his angel…" It was sad. Erik led Christine about his flat just like any average, newly engaged couple would that were touring their new home for the very first time. She began to paralyze when she saw Erik was leading her to his bedroom; the bedroom she had found herself in an evening ago. Had it been only an evening? The time and day were mystery to Christine; for, in hell, there was no daylight, and a minute seemed to equate to an earthly year.

"Erik's bedchamber." He walked her in. Christine scanned the sad room; it was so miserable. Once again, she was introduced to the amputated footrest, moth-eaten sofa, and wooden coffin. How peculiar! Erik followed her eye's trail. He noticed she was studying the awkward, large, splintered, propped open coffin. "That is where Erik sleeps."

Christine's eyes instantly filled with tears.

"Oh, do not be too startled! I am no longer inclined to sleep in the death-box, dearest Christine! For I have found myself a true, living wife!"

Christine noticed two profound discoveries: This was the first time she had heard Erik refer to himself in first person. And, he had been resurrected. By me!

* * *

_"Know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!..." - Erik (Gaston Leroux)_

_"He was alive and had never lived." - (Gaston Leroux)_

_"... repulsive carcass that seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty secretly, secretly..." - The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"Yet in his eyes... all the sadness of the world..." - Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

I have a question I would appreciate getting feedback on: Would you guys rather have Christine and Erik's relationship turn physical/sexual, or stay more mysterious and discrete? I could write eroticism, I am naughty like that! He He.

I would like to take a chance to thank all the wonderful people who have reviewed my story. It means a lot to me, and is extremely inspiring. I want to read all your great stories, but just cannot stop writing my own! Ha ha. Thanks everyone!

* * *


	15. MUSIC OF THE NIGHT

**MUSIC OF THE NIGHT**

**CHAPTER TEN**

"_You alone can make my song take flight… help me make the music of the night." – The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"When a man," continued Raoul, "adopts such romantic methods to entice a young girl's affections. .." - Raoul (Gaston Leroux)_

_"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you've already sucummed to me. Dropped all defenses, completely sucummed to me. Now you are here with me. No second thoughts. You've decided... DECIDED!" - The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Christine's heart ached for his devastation. She had never felt so foul, so low. Her heavy eyes remained glued to his coffin; she longed to disappear in it, forever seal the lid, and condemn herself to her well earned misery. "Does my angel care for a song?" Christine's eyes shifted to Erik; he was, once again, wearing his mask. She felt even fouler. _He must have sensed my fear, my cruelty, my hesitation! He must have felt the need to hide from me, ashamed, yet again. _All she could possibly do at this point was 'nod'.

Erik lead Christine with an endearing grin plastered on his face. Sheltering Christine's small frame from the shivery atmosphere, he protectively wrapped her in the _woolen robe with love_.

"I could not bare to see my beauty catch herself an unforgiving cold." The more Erik humbled himself to her, crowning her the queen of his palace, the guiltier Christine began to grow. As much as his kindness warmed her heart, she acknowledged she could not really commit herself to his lair. _It just would not be natural._ Not daring to disturb this small portion of bliss Erik had finally found, Christine "played house" with him.

"My Erik! Play for me, sing for me! For me, your angel, whom is so fond of your brilliance…" A tear wept from Erik's eyes; a tear of true serenity. Erik began to create a beautiful symphony from his organ. _How could such a stern, intimidating instrument produce such a heavenly sound?_ _Similarly, how could such a rough, fascinating, man contain such a sensitive soul? _Erik sang to his Christine with an unbelievable passion, sacrificing his entire existence to her. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor… Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender…Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before…"

Without the slightest hesitation, Christine did as she was commanded. His deep, sensual, seductive voice tightly wrapped itself around her pulsating heart.

"Softly, deftly, music shall caress you… hear it, feel it, secretly possess you…"

This was by far the most intimate, erotic moment of her seventeen years of life. Her pretty eyes remained closed as his booming, incredibly masculine voice continued to sooth and entice her, teasing her womanhood. She heard the Phantom's voice become louder, approaching closer, and felt it suffocate her vulnerable self, unintentionally corrupting and raping her innocence.

Erik grasped her fragile neck with his cold hands, sending shivers down her stiff spine. Her eyes opened. She wanted to experience this forbidden moment with all her senses: touch, sight, smell, hear, _and even…taste_?

She glanced down at Erik's lusty clutch. The pace of her breathing seemed to intensify, reaching a point where she was practically moaning and panting with unsustainable ecstasy. His voice was dangerously intoxicating. Erik grasped her petite hand, forcing it to run up her own chest, groping her own ample bosom. Gently, Erik brought her hand to the beautiful side of his face; she tickled it with overwhelming affection.

"Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation…"

And she did. Erik leaned into her long neck, his lips _almost _grazing her soft skin. Christine's body shuddered as his hot breath pierced the back of her neck. Erik breathed his fiery words onto it, "only then can you belong to me..."

She was surprised, and considerably disappointed, when Erik released her from his empowering hold. He seated himself at his magnificent organ_. How professional of him,_ she playfully joked with herself.

"Now, SING FOR ME!"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Let me know if you have any questions, comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms!


	16. IN THE NAME OF LOVE

**IN THE NAME OF LOVE**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN **

_"Who is this voice you hear... this mask of death!" - Raoul (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"Why did you stand up, with radiant features, as though you were really hearing angels?...Ah, it is a very dangerous voice, Christine, for I myself, when I heard it, was so much fascinated by it that you vanished before my eyes without my seeing which way you passed!"- Raoul (Gaston Leroux)_

_"There is no angel of music. There is only Erik!" - Christine Daae (Susan Kay)_

_"Even when he is not there, my ears are full of his sighs. Still, if you heard..." - Christine Daae (Gaston Leroux)_

* * *

Raoul, in a terrible panic, stumbled about the opera house, trying to make sense of Christine's illogical disappearance. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to find passage through the mysterious dressing room mirror. _Being one of Erik's many brilliant inventions, he had made certain his mirror was only able to rotate from the inside._

"Madame Giry!" Raoul cried out, trembling.

"Why, my good Vicomte? Are you quite all right?"

"Please Madame, It is Christine Daae! She has disappeared, been kidnapped--"

"What is this madness…." Madame Giry spat, cutting off poor Raoul mid sentence.

"You may claim me as mad, but I need your help! Christine needs your help! You know this opera house far better than anyone... And Miss Daae! You being like a mother to her know her best as well."

"I suppose so. She has disappeared, you say?"

Raoul finally catching his breath, "What do you know of a voice... a most compelling, haunting voice, which cries out so sadly behind Daae's dressing room mirror?" Raoul prayed he did not sound like a raving lunatic.

Madame Giry was silent for several haunting moments. He read her silence. "Well, Madame? Please! I love the poor girl so very much, I do not know what I would do without my sweet Christine! Why, probably just end my own existence..." Raoul cried with hysteria, interrupting her deep thought.

"I am sorry, Raoul… I can be no help to you." Madame Giry shot up, nearly in tears – Raoul firmly latched on to her arm, reaching his breaking point. "You DO know this voice! Shall you deny it, Madame? It has taken Christine. Please, Madame, for Daae's unfortunate sake!"

"Very well, monsieur." Madame Giry signaled Raoul into a dark room. She lit a candle, illuminating the eerie darkness. "Christine has come to know his voice over the past four months or so…" Madame Giry's head sunk in painful memories. She solemnly continued, "You recall one of Daae's tales? The Angel of Music?... From yours and Christine's early childhood…?" Madame Giry trailed off.

"Certainly… Christine told you of this? I must same I am surprised... It seems as though she has much trouble discussing her haunting past, even with myself…even our common memories…"

"No." Raoul grew even more confused. He frantically studied her stern face with expanding impatience. "_He_ has told me himself, monsieur…"

"He? Meaning the voice?" Raoul was growing more and more frustrated, "Madame, if you do not mind, can you reach your point more abruptly? Poor Christine is at the mercy of his hands, as we speak!"

"RAOUL! I assure you she is in no form of danger! So calm yourself, sir! Now… before I have a change of heart, do you wish to know the story of _Erik and Christine_?" Raoul's pounding heart began to twist and turn; his head was spinning, threatening to explode_. Erik? I shall kill this Erik!_ Oh, how passionatley Raoul cursed this Erik! Yet, on the surface, he remained calm.

"He is a hidden genius, monsieur! A composer, architect, inventor, artist, magician, and more!...And, for the past four months, _her Angel_."

Raoul scoffed at this insanity. "Angel, you say? Why, you surely do not believe me to be a fool good lady? "

"He heard her desperate prayers and saw her cold tears… he took her under his blackened wing… he inspired her beautiful voice, gave her inspiration, reason to sing again…"

Raoul began to understand. "You mean, Madame, he so slyly deceived this lost child, claiming to be an Angel? An Angel _sent by her late father?_" Madame Giry shamefully nodded. For the first time, she realized how horribly demented it sounded.

"How in the good Lord's name could you allow such cruelty?"

"Yes, it is a bit cruel, I suppose. But, monsieur, you must understand how much Erik has inspired her! It is a truly magnificent thing… one could even say a miracle…"

"She is under his spell! A quite dangerous spell if I may say! I, myself, heard that horribly tantalizing voice. That voice that called to her with the most _unorthodox intent…" _Raoul cringed at disturbing thoughts… Terrible images of _this Erik_ taking advantage of _his Lotte._

"…Which is why I felt it necessary to inform you of this, Raoul. If I had known _the affect she would have on him_, on his poor, lonely, desperate soul… I would not have allowed it…. For _his own sake_!"

"He loves her, does he not!"

Madame Giry nodded. "…and she loves him as well…?" Raoul was terrified for her response, for he loved his little Lotte beyond one's comprehension.

"Oh, no! Erik is much _different than you, Raoul_…" Madame Giry tried her best to hint Raoul, without being forced to use harsh words such as "deformed" or "ugly."

"How do I get to them? Take me to him, Madame!"

"No, I refuse. I cannot take _you down there_… at least not yet… I fear what he might do in the name of love…"

"And I shall do whatever it takes in the NAME OF OUR LOVE, Madame!"

"Understood. If he does not return her by tonight, I shall lead you to him."

* * *


	17. POOR ERIK

**POOR ERIK**

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_"Well, then, let them see. It's an engagement, not a crime! Christine, what are you afraid of?" - Raoul (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"Say you love him, and my life is over!" - Raoul (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"In that night there was music in my mind... And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before." - Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"What you heard was a dream and nothing more." - Raoul (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"Yet your soul obeys!" - The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Christine sat helplessly on the chapel floor. Her hands were bond together in prayer, her head slumped down in agony. A lit candle resided beside her; not much could be seen outside its glowing rim of light. Christine had humbly asked Erik to briefly return her to the "world above," once more. "I am in desperate need of a last, comorting prayer to my late father's lonesome spirit," Christine declared with a "mending" heart. _This could not be rightfully accomplished in Erik's domain; it was far too hopeless and cursed, anything but sacred or holy._ With a tender, bursting heart, Erik obligied, trusting her sincerity. A few tears escaped Christine's compassionate eyes; "Poor Erik" she cried out with boiling sympathy.

"Poor Erik?" Raoul's shaky voice echoed the chapel's stone walls. Christine rotated her elegant frame, facing the unseen voice. The eerie darkness hid Raoul's pitiful identity. Slowly, he approached the emotional Christine. The subtle light elegantly danced over his handsome features. Christine glared up at him, at loss of words.

"Poor Erik, you say? Well, as you were so carelessly swept away by Erik's voice, a poor Raoul was awaiting his bride-to-be, Christine! My ring in hand, ready to propose to you, _my Christine_!"

Christine began to tremble. As Raoul continued his passionate plea, she tried with every bit of strength to not further burden Raoul with her overflowing emotions.

Raoul kneeled to Christine's level, his eyes weighing down with burning tears. Erik's fiery golden band brightly shined in the candle's unforgiving illumination. With bitterness, Raoul grasped Christine's quivering, engaged hand. His delicate words began to mutate into a twisted resentment.

"Yet, you have no husband, nor fiancée, and you wear a wedding-ring." Christine's eyes widened; she shamefully pulled her hand from Raoul's tight clasp.

"That is but a thoughtful gift, Raoul!" Uncontrollably, Christine's cheeks blushed.

"Christine! As you have no husband, that ring can only have been given by one who hopes to make you his wife! Why deceive me further? Why torture me still more? That ring is a promise; and that promise has been accepted!"

"No, Raoul! You are terribly mistaken!"

"Only hours ago you willfully vanish to Erik's domain, and now, your engaged finger harbors _his_ stubborn ring!" Raoul madly wiped a descending tear from his eye. "I know of this man! This false idol of yours! This deceitful demon; not ANGEL, demon!"

"Raoul, why do you condemn a man whom you have never seen, whom no one knows and about whom you yourself know nothing?" Christine spat, defending Erik's honor.

"I know this - THAT THERE IS NO ANGEL OF MUSIC! And there never was! And I know you are under an incredibly dangerous spell… Ah, yes! Truly a most bewitching spell… For I heard Erik's voice – not ANGEL'S – Erik's!"

Christine's eyes rained with sorrow and merciless remorse.

Raoul continued, completely abandoning his nerve, "Christine, Christine, in the name of Heaven, in the name of your father who is in Heaven now and who loved you so dearly and who loved me too, Christine, tell me, why do you so obediently surrender to this voice! When even you know of his true identity? Erik, the man! The wretched, sly man! Curse Erik!"

"Yes, Raoul! He has deceived me! But I am equally at fault… oh, those tears! Those cold tears of his! Which stream so pitifully from those saddened eyes… And that voice, a voice which is but a mournful cry, a cry for love, a cry of passion!"

Raoul found himself beginning to develop an unavoidable sensitivity for this "poor Erik." He executed a long, heartfelt sigh as he absorbed Christine's committed words.

"And I answered that cry! I shed hope, shed light in his never-ending darkness, on his cursed, blackened soul…"

"You love me, Christine? You can shy away from this man's compelling voice, committing only to my own?"

"Yes, Raoul, yes! On a condition, my dearest: forget the sorrowful voice – never so much as FATHOM THE MYSTERY OF THE MAN'S VOICE…"

Raoul nodded. "So we are to immediately escape this weary, haunted opera house, start a new, bright future to call our own?"

"First" Christine protested, fingering Erik's glowing ring, "I must sing for him – a last time. It is but the least I can, and shall, do…"

"In his lair?" Raoul barked, astonished and annoyed with her naivety.

"No. In _his_ opera, on _his _stage. _His_ Don Juan Triumphant."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

Comments and suggestions, please! Thank you so very much! P.S. (spoiler alert! He He) Things will once again heat between Christine and her phantom. Just felt it necessary to point out - since this chapter may somehow distort that idea... :-) Just for fun: Who is currently rooting for Raoul, and who for Erik?

Also, I would like to make note: Several of the pieces of dialgoue are paraphryazed lines from Leroux's novel; I edited them to better suit the mood/perspective of THIS story.


	18. THIRD CELLAR FATE

**THIRD CELLAR FATE**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

_"May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning?...For what hell are you leaving, mysterious lady...or for what paradise?" - Raoul (Gaston Leroux)_

_"Farewell, my fallen idol and false friend." - Christine Daae (Andrew Lloyd Webber) _

_"...the genious has turned to madness..." - Raoul (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

"Joseph Buquet has been murdered! Hanged by his neck," nearly all cried out in a hysterical unity. "Joseph Buquet's corpse was discovered hanged by his neck, within the deepest vaults of the opera house!"

His corpse was not the only mysterious discovery; protruding from his filthy pocket resided a peculiar note…

_Monsieur Buquet,_

_We are in need of several specific set pieces for the upcoming production "Don Juan Triumphant." They have been stored in the third cellar, as not to occupy needed space… Please fetch the pieces as soon as possible – opening night is a few evenings away._

_Thank you, Firmin and Andre_

"Of course we did not write this note!" Andre spat defensively.

"And as God as our witness, this is the first we have learned of any 'Don Juan' production! Surely you all can agree this is a horribly distasteful setup! To ruin us! Oh heaven's mercy…." Firmin attempted to reassure the Opera Populaire's crew of his and Andre's innocence and framing.

Madame Giry interrupted Andre and Firmin's hysteria with cold words, "Not yet seen 'Don Juan Triumphant' you say?" Madame Giry handed Andre the opera script with a subtle grin.

"If I had not known better myself, I would accuse YOU of all this madness, Madame Giry!"

"Please, gentlemen… You say you know nothing of Buquet's note or death… similarly, I know nothing of how this opera made entrance to my bedchamber…"

Andre and Firmin accepted her excuse, hoping it would inevitably further aid in their pitiful own. "Very, well…"

Firmin yanked the opera from Andre's trembling clutch, "Christine Daae! Christine Daae! Ah! The mysterious composer wishes Miss Daae for the lead… perhaps our good VICOMTE can provide us all a logical explanation!" he scolded Raoul, accusingly.

Raoul's handsome complexion drained of all its coloring, "Oh… come now, my good men!" Raoul nervously stammered over his words and thoughts.

"This is the work of our opera ghost! We have all been blind, my friends! No, of course our good managers did not write the deathly note! And our loyal Madame Giry is not at fault! It is our ghost, our Phantom! Alas, surely you all can rid yourselves of these ridiculous, childish ghost stories and alleged hauntings you have blindly been led to believe… This apparition is neither a ghost nor phantom! It is but a cynical man!"

Madame Giry's heavy heart sank into her dry throat; Christine's eyes stung with _burning, angry_ tears.

A traumatized ballerina yelped, "By God! Joseph had often spoken of strange encounters with a dark figure that often lurked about his post!"

"How do you suggest we go about ensnaring our clever friend, Raoul? Dear, Lord! First poor, poor Carlotta mysteriously falls ill!" Carlotta obnoxiously bawled and whimpered as Firmin continued, "And we were so forcefully demanded that Mademoiselle Daae takes her place! And now, an opera written in Christine's grace!... The Phantom certainly _seems to be strangely intrigued_ by your lovely Miss Daae! " Firmin scoffed with disgust.

"We shall play his game, perform his work… But remember we hold the ace: for if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend!"

Christine stormed to the sanctuary of the chapel, tears raining from her sorrowful eyes.

* * *

"Christine, my sweet Christine!" Raoul lovingly embraced her.

"Don't make me do this, Raoul! Please! _You had promised me!_ I cannot bring myself—"

Raoul hushed her, comforting her with a sweet song, "You said yourself, he was nothing but a man… yet, while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead…"

As much compassion, sensitivity, and loyalty Christine had invested in Erik, she also had to take into consideration her own well being: If she did not agree to Raoul's plan, what was to become of her own fate? Of innocent Raoul? Of the Opera Populiare and all its occupants?

She had seen Erik passionately composing his "Don Juan Triumphant" during her recent stay in his lair. Back in her conflicted mind and soul, Christine knew Erik had have planned for this; far too many treacherous coincidences occurred soon after her prolonged leave in the "above world."

"Twisted every way, what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live? Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice… do I become his prey, have I any choice?" Christine's gentle words turned darkly cold, "He Kills without a thought, he murders all that's good, I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could… Oh, God If I agree, what horrors wait for me, in this – the Phantom's Opera!"

"Christine, Christine don't think that I don't care… But every hope and every prayer rests on you now." Raoul slipped Erik's golden band from Christine's quivering hand, freeing her from his reign; suggestively, he set the ring in a dark corner of the chapel.

Raoul and Christine comforted each other with a loving embrace.

Beneath the chaos, beneath Buquet's third-cellar-fate, in the darkness of the Phantom's loathsome lair, Erik cried in pain with heartbreak and vengeance…

"I gave you my music, made your song take wing... and now, how you've repaid me: denied me and betrayed me..." Erik recited Christine's heavenly name over and over under his choking breath. With a newly established strength, "You will curse the day you did not do, all that the Phantom asked of you!"

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Do you guys like the direction the story is headed? Is Raoul's appeal ruined? Ha Ha. Suggestions for new chapters? Insights, please! Positive and/or negative. I have always liked the self conflict Christine undergoes in the musical, and so wanted to incorporate that into my story - while still preserving the 'edginess' of Leroux. Thank you!!


	19. A DARK SEDUCER

**A DARK SEDUCER**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

_"You cannot win her love by making her your prisoner!" – Raoul (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

_"Let's see how far you dare go!" – The Phantom (Andrew Lloyd Webber)_

* * *

Christine could not sleep; she could not rid her consciousness of the Phantom's haunting song. She wrapped her long arms in silk gloves and secured her bonnet's ribbon beneath her chin. Raoul had been guarding her bedchamber while Christine tried to rest her pacing mind. His sleeping self slumped lazily against her door.

Christine's dresses' long trail danced behind her as she descended down the winding stairs. A carriage was parked outside the opera's stable, waiting for business.

"Where to, miss?"

"The cemetery, please."

Christine handed the driver the proper amount of pay; she left him momentarily to change into more appropriate attire. A mysterious caped man knocked the driver out cold; Raoul jolted awake. He ran to her bedside; it was empty. He observed in horror as the carriage pulled away from Opera Populaire. Raoul knew _he_ had come for Christine.

Panicked, Raoul questioned the driver, who had just regained his consciousnesses, "Where did they go?"

Christine sadly walked through the peaceful cemetery. She observed the stone, crying angels and cold crosses.

"Her father promised her, her father had promised her... Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental. Seemed for you, the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle…"

Christine approached her father's tomb with a heavy, aching heart. "No more memories… no more silent tears… no more gazing across…the wasted years…"

She crouched at her father's resting spot in prayer. "Help me say goodbye…"

A beautiful melody echoed in Daae's tomb – a familiar melody from Christine's childhood. A crying violin was comforting Christine. She did not know what to make of this phenomenon; was her father's spirit reaching out to comfort her? Or, was her mind playing cruel tricks on her? Christine wiped a descending tear from her pale cheek.

"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless… Yearning for my guidance…"

Her _angel's heavenly voice!_ Christine had never been more vulnerable... This was Erik's ideal_ chance_...

"Angel… or father… friend... or phantom? Who is it there, staring?" The coldness of the falling snow began to numb Christine. She grew tedious and defenseless against the winter.

Erik cried out to Christine as he continued to serenade her with the sobbing violin…

"Have you forgotten your Angel?"

Christine pleaded with the haunting voice, "Angel! Oh, speak… what endless longings echo in this whisper!"

"Too long you've wandered in winter… far from my fatherly gaze…"

Christine walked towards the unseen voice without thinking. Quite miraculously, the tomb began to glow.

"Angel! I denied you, turning from true beauty!"

The powerful voice beckoned her, "I am your Angel! Come to the angel of music… Come to me, the Angel of music..."

"Christine, wait! Whatever you may have been led to believe… this thing, this dark seducer, is not your father! Oh, cease this twisted torment!" Raoul jumped from his white stallion's back with heroic style. Cesar seemed to camouflage into the whiteness of the snow. Raoul rushed towards Christine, the tomb, and Erik with madness. He drew a sword. Christine yelped with terror, choking on her icy tears.

A black, flowing, caped shadow emerged from the tomb. The phantom drew his sword; Christine noticed a silver skull made its handle. The two raged men fought and fought, ready to sacrifice themselves in the name of love and desire.

Raoul clumsily tripped over a grave. Immediately, he rose, growing more and more fearful of his potential impending death. And what a perfect death it would have been! _Right in death's house: a cemetery._

Christine's hot breath severed the icy atmosphere, "No please! Stop this! Oh, please!" She cried.

Erik wrapped Raoul's pretty face in his cloak, pulling him ferociously to the blanketed ground. Raoul struck Erik's gloved hand with his blade. Erik immediately dropped the sword, clutching his throbbing, pierced hand.

Proudly, Raoul towered over the Phantom; the end of Erik's pitiful existence only one knife thrust away. The Phantom's chest heaved with his angry breath, almost pleading to be stabbed... _Put out of his misery_. "No, Raoul! Not like this!"

"Fine" Raoul spat, obediently. Christine and Raoul rod off into the coldness, leaving Erik pathetically sprawled on the snow, which was beginning to redden from his sizzling blood.

"Let it be war upon you both!"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms, please!


	20. CRUEL REFLECTIONS

**CRUEL REFLECTIONS **

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

_"If Erik's secrets cease to be Erik's secrets, IT WILL BE A BAD LOOKOUT FOR A GOODLY NUMBER OF THE HUMAN RACE!" - Erik (Gaston Leroux)_

* * *

Raoul woke, panting loudly, his mind painfully spinning. He felt queasy, on the brink of retching.

Only darkness.

He jolted himself up from the cold and oddly smooth flooring. A sharp gust of air sent Raoul back to the uncomfortable ground, his bones rattling as he shivered. A low moan. "Whose here!... What is this madness?" Raoul stood again, very weakly. He felt like an infant fawn taking its first steps; Raoul crashed to the ground. He knew he had been drugged and he was not alone in this empty, blackened hell.

Raoul forced himself to drunkenly stand and walk forward. Painfully, he slammed against a cold, hard surface. He swept his hands over it, letting the odd curves of the wall lead him in an "imperfect circular" path.

Raoul had flipped a switch or hit a button, for the room drew painfully bright. Squinting, Raoul observed his surroundings – he was being gawked at by nearly a hundred of himself, a hundred traumatized Raouls! He found himself imprisoned in a cell of endless mirrors… the ground, ceiling, walls – everything mirrors. The strange orb of light above him closely resembled the sun; Raoul felt himself becoming increasingly warm. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed a hundred reflections of a tall, darkly dressed man accompanying his own. "Erik!" Raoul growled with loathing anger. "I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU BEFORE... I SHALL KILL YOU NOW, YOU VILE DEMON!"

"No!" the voice spat sharply.

Raoul knew immediately his mysterious companion was _not Erik._ The stranger's hoarse, raspy voice was put to shame by Erik's unearthly one. Raoul tore off his coat. The heat was becoming unbearable. He could feel his mouth dry, becoming lined with cotton.

"Where am I? WHO ARE YOU! And what in the devil's name is this madness!" Raoul roared with his fleeting energy. He felt himself falling drowsy again. It was not a symptom of his apparent drugging – that had worn off. It was the combination of the piercing heat, cyclone of evil mirrors… and forest? A magnificent tree sat proudly in the middle of the terrible chamber. A rather inviting noose hung lazily from one of its leafy branches.

"We are in one of _his_ many marvels, my dear friend…" The strange man spoke too coolly; it irritated Raoul.

"_His_ marvels? Who are you, sir! This is your doing, no doubt of it! I will have you hanged for such blasphemy-"

"NO! This is _Erik's torture chamber_."

Raoul was infuriated. _I should have put that beast out of his misery when I had the chance! Curse that wretched monster of a man, ERIK! _Raoul madly punched one of 'him selves' with resentment.

"Preserve your energy, will you? I assure you, you will need it, my good Vicomte…"

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hey guys! Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. A special thanks to "Kureneko!" You were very right about the story falling too much into the mold of the film… hopefully I have successfully averted it from that dull path? Sorry this chapter is rather short - I am wrestling with myself on what direction to take the story... Thank you, everyone! Comments, critiques always loved!


	21. GRIM ENCOUNTER

**GRIM ENCOUNTER**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

_"From the moment of birth my destiny was to be alone." - Erik (Susan Kay)_

_"Hell is no place; It's an obsession with a voice, a face, a name..." - Erik (Susan Kay)_

_"Mortal, immortal, it no longer matters, for love transcends all barriers, and I am confident now that he is helpless against its brutal grip as I am." - Christine Daae (Susan Kay)_

_"There's a fatal flaw running through her, like a hairline crack in a Ming dynasty vase, but that very imperfection makes me love her with even greater tenderness." - Erik (Susan Kay)_

_"All I wanted was to be loved for myself." - Erik (Gaston Leroux)_

_"...yes, I have had enough of this life, you know." - Erik (Gaston Leroux)_

* * *

Christine sat shivering on the cold, stone floor, her glamorous gown absorbing murky water. She was back in Erik's underworld due to her own negligence. She knew Erik was keeping her captive. She knew she had good reason to fear the safety of her sweetheart, Raoul. But, she also knew that she had sentenced herself. She had betrayed her Angel of Music, the O.G., Erik, The Phantom of the Opera… Betrayal and deceit are worlds different. Erik had deceived her; Christine had betrayed him.

Christine let her pretty face sink down in agony, her chocolate curls blanketing her nude shoulders. Suddenly, Christine was wrapped in incredible softness.

"Erik would not wish his lovely maiden to catch herself a cold…No, Erik likes his wives live." Erik spoke with an eerie possessiveness.

Christine timidly rotated herself towards the Phantom's deep, rich voice. He blended well into the dark atmosphere; all she could see was his white porcelain self. Christine shuddered. For the first time Christine truly feared this odd recluse.

"Erik has not frightened you, sweet Christine?" He sunk to her level, delicately caressing her rosy cheek. Craving more intimate of contact with the little goddess, Erik removed his glove and massaged her soft skin with his cold hand. Felt like the hand of the grim reaper himself… Christine's fragile frame shook at the touch of his ice cold fingertips. Erik did not want to frighten his little Christine, so he forced himself to retain his humanly urges… The touch of Christine's sweet flesh held the same power of his voice to her ears: an awakening of forbidden longings.

Curse these treacherous humanistic traits I have been doomed with! Erik growled to himself, referencing the stubbornly growing bulge, which was fortunately hidden by his cape. Only in Christine Daae's captivating presence was Erik reminded grimly of his masculinity… This fragile, delicate flower could crush Erik's mind and soul like a despicable, unwanted bug, if only she had wished. This frightened Erik terribly. He had survived the abuse and rape of Javert, his cruel gypsy master, the violent Shah, his mother's loathing, various mob's torturous beatings...but Miss Daae, this pure Angel? She was his weakness and most deadly threat.

Christine had not made the faintest sound since their arrival to his lair; this bothered him immensely.

"You look nervous, my beauty… Erik will sing for you, for his Angel of Music!"

Oh, good Lord, please don't let him sing, please don't let him sing, he cannot sing...Christine pleaded to herself, for she knew the magical, irresistible magnetism of that voice. Christine's prayers were left unanswered; he sang. Oh, and what a horribly beautiful song! Erik had no need for his magical lasso, torture-chamber, or sword; his penetrating voice was threatening enough. A voice which could curl the toes of anyone – force nearly any woman he wished into his power or bedchamber. And it was the silent, youthful beauty before his frowning eyes which he desired with overwhelming emotions and physical torments: Christine Daae.

Erik thrived on power, and power of all forms: fear-driven, awe-full, intimidation, respect, and now - sexual. Before experiencing Christine's intense and arousing responses to his voice, Erik was completely ignorant of the scandalous power it held.

She will love me, FOR ME. FOR ERIK!

Christine's eyes grew lazy, as if she were truly being hypnotized. She felt Erik's long, deathly cold fingers tighten around her limp neck. He caressed it lovingly as her body stiffened with a foreign sensation. All thoughts of Raoul seemed to slowly be vanishing from her intoxicated mind. As Erik serenaded her with a seductive melody, he firmly entwined his rough fingers between her own. In this tender moment, Christine was his slave, captive in Erik's Godly powers and influences. Christine's full lips curved in an endearing smile as his song wrapped around her tender soul, claiming it as his own...

"Christine..."

"Erik..." she replied, still disconnected from reality.

"This face! This infection! This cursed-ness which poisons our love..." Christine opened her drowsy eyes; they grew heavy with sympathy.

"If Erik were handsome... If Erik possessed the attraction which your beauty deserves..." His voice lost all confidence. "...Would you love me?... Would you be my wife?... Keep me?... Would you let me care for you, take you out on Sundays, as a normal husband would?..." Very weakly, abandoning all pride, "a normal lover...?...Would you... want me?"

Christine covered her quivering mouth, trying to stop the sobs which were destined to come. Erik waited impatiently for her answer.

"Erik..."

He rotated his seated self, hiding his pathetically sulking face from her vision. He did not want her to see his weak tears stream from his eye. With her sweet hand twisted beneath his broad chin, Christine turned his saddened face towards her own. She compassionately dabbed his tears away with her woolen robe. This robe made her feel as though she were royalty.

Pity. Erik thought. She pities you; nothing more, nothing less.

"Erik... I do not know what I feel for you... And I do not know what I ever could..."

Erik stiffened, his heart thumping, threatening to burst.

"You see, here, with you...in your darkened sanctuary... nothing is real, and yet, at the same time, nothing is illusion..." Christine trailed off, realizing she was not making sense. Erik knew she was talking to her self more than him.

"Oh, Christine... If I only had not been cursed with such a vile face, the face of Lucifer himself, I would celebrate you in the lightest of light... Christine, Christine, Believe Erik, I would... I would never hide you in darkness; only the holiest of light... Oh, Christine... My Christine..." Erik slid a shaking hand beneath his mask, clawing at his fatal flaw.

Erik ached so badly to reach out to her at that moment, secure her doubts of his painful love and affection being anything but unreal. Like a young, timid school boy, Erik dared not to risk rejection. If she were to reject him now, why, he had no idea what destruction he would be capable of! Harming himself... or worse harm her!... no, never her. Erik smugly thought to himself... Raoul would certainly feel the burn of his wrath and pay the dearest of cost for his sins!

Raoul! What a wretched burden! Until this pivotal moment, Erik had forgotten about Raoul and his 'fate' entirely. Quite suddenly, Erik found himself greatly regretting throwing Raoul and that Darogo into his brilliant torture pit, sacrificing them to his wild fire of desire. For, that reality would surely extinguish any passionate flames Christine might have embodied for him.

What bitter, monstrous creature has this forbidden love affair mutated me into? I am NOW, TRULY, a REAL, cold blooded MURDERER... Erik tried to shake these taunting thoughts from his restless mind. Granted, Erik had murdered numerously before... mostly corrupted persons who put the 'human race' to shame, Erik might say. He had never murdered like this. Erik's perspective on his killings had always been indifferent; amoral.

Christine confidently shifted her self closer to Erik. She removed his other silken glove, pressing his trembling flesh to her cheek, motioning it through her velvet hair. She could not help but lewdly grin at his obviously intrigued state.

Christine was torn, lost, confused...

As my Angel had said, maybe I COULD learn to see the man behind the mask... learn to love the man behind the mask... We certainly share the powerful passion of music... And he cares for me, for my future, my everything... perhaps more than Raoul. Yes, Raoul can offer me nearly anything I desire - at least in the material world. The beautiful face he has shown me overshadows the disfigured one... Could I learn to love the man? Could I at least... try? He has sacrificed much for me; does he not deserve the same respect, the same chance?... As a normal man would have? As she studied his sensitivity, Christine found herself grow madly attracted to this man... and in every sense of the word.

NO RING... Erik's wandering eyes acknowledged as Christine so lovingly petted him ...WOE!

Almost instinctively, Erik madly pushed her hypocrisy from his vulnerable self. He rose, allowing himself to obtain his full, intimidating height - not an inch less. She cowered in his shadow.

"AM I SO UTTERLY REPULSIVE, SO VILE - THAT YOU CANNOT EVEN BRING YOURSELF TO WEAR MY RING... THE SYMBOL OF MY COMMITMENT TO YOU? A RING - SUCH A SIMPLE, HARMLESS THING, REALLY. YOU HAVE TRIED MY PATIENCE! HOW CAN YOU FIND SUCH SATISFACTION IN TOYING WITH ME - MY EMOTIONS? HOW, CHRISTINE DAAE, HOW?"

Christine tried to rationalize with her fallen Angel, "Please, Erik! I do care for you, so much! Please, do not do this! Can you not see? You put our futureat stake! I sincerly believe I may love -" Her words were drowned by Erik's mad ramblings.

"CHRISTINE! I gave you my music, my soul. I gave you ME, ERIK!" Erik's eyes burned with tears that were beyond heart break.

"Please, my Angel! Oh, I beg of you, please! Oh, I am losing you, please, my fallen idol, I plead with you! Oh, how my tears shed for you... how my heart aches for your pain! I cannot bare to lose you, my angel... my angel... angel..." She had lost her father; she had lost her angel of music.

Chuckling, "Oh, you women really are the dumber of the sex - aren't you? Spare your useless pity; it does not interest me." A shinning jewel that resided between Christine's heaving bosoms caught Erik's eye. He pulled the chain and its pendants from her thin neck, clasping it tightly in his fist.

"AH! Congratulations, Miss Daae... It seems you are engaged. Oh, what is this? A crucifix? Do you not know my poor, lost, astray child? Did your father not tell you? THERE is no GOD! There are no ANGELS! Demons maybe..." Erik ripped his mask off. He turned Christine's tearful, averted face towards his own. Pressing her face against his, "BEHOLD, THE PROOF BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES!"

Christine had never been so terrified. Madly, her bones rattled and teeth chattered. My poor, beautiful angel. Erik tore Raoul's elaborate ring from its chain; he shoved the ring on Christine's shaking finger.

"Ah, this is a quite BEAUTIFUL ring... Nicer than the one I had offered you, most certainly... It will do." Erik drew his sword; Christine screamed.

Cutting her dress off her tiny body, "This silly dress is not appropriate attire for your wedding day, you poor child!" Erik tore off the mannequin's wedding dress; he threw it at Christine. Oh, how long he had spent perfecting this beautiful, pure gown! Christine's gorgeous, fully exposed figure distracted Erik - momentarily - His masculinity was unable to resist such flawlessness. Erik's sad eyes examined the full length of her perfection with a burning desire like he had never felt.

Erik's corrupt side tempted him... You could take advantage of this lost child, right here, in my darkened hell! Claim her your own; FORCE her to love you... no, even now I could never bring myself to exploit my Christine. He loved her so dearly, he loved her far more than his pitiful self. It was murdering his soul; killing any sense of worth he might have possessed.

"Please dress, my dear Christine... Oh, do hurry!... I do wish Raoul and my good, old friend to witness our courting; I do not know how much time they have to spare, you know..."

Christine tears were so heavy, she might have drowned in them.

"You have gladly accepted Erik at his kindness; now, you shall accept Erik at his wickedest!"

_Farewell my poor, fallen angel... farewell, Erik._


	22. ERIK'S SECRETS

**ERIK'S SECRETS**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

"How do we get out?" Raoul questioned the dark stranger as he felt his spirit slowly beginning to fleet from his exhausted flesh.

"We cannot. It is impossible… Only Erik is able to release us."

"Then we are as good as dead, I take it."

Raoul's strange companion's head weighed down in painful memories, "He was not always like this, you know."

"Are you defending the beast? You lay in his torture pit of mirrors, and you defend his will?"

"No, not defend. Never defend." Raoul stared at him half quizzical, half annoyed.

The sad man continued, "Understand, yes. He was a genius, monsieur. If it were not for his cursed face, he would have been the most distinguished of all men. I assure you of this, my Vicomte."

"What is your name?" Raoul asked, sounding more harsh then he had meant to.

He spoke with painful sadness, "Nadir." Raoul studied Nadir, waiting for him to resume. "It is her love that has made Erik a monster… Or shall I say, _lack of_…"

This remark profoundly angered Raoul, "Love? This is not love, good sir! This is torture, abuse, hate… this is murder!"

"And THOSE things are all POOR ERIK has ever known."

"Poor Erik? Poor Erik?!" Raoul spat in disgust, "All I have been hearing is 'poor, poor Erik.' No, not poor Buquet. Not poor La Carlotta. Not poor Christine. Not poor Raoul—not even poor _Nadir_."

"It is man's hatred… man's loathing and rejection, that has made Erik this way. Pity… truly a crime for the _human race_."

"You are talking like a madman. Human race? What is this nonsense."

"Ah, yes. You see, you and I… your beauty, Miss Daae… we are all part of the 'human race,' as Erik would explain." Chuckling to himself, Nadir continued nostalgically, "Yes, we can be so cruel. We condemn ourselves, you know."

"Just how have you come to speak so passionately of this Erik? Cannot imagine you made friends during your work at the opera house…you do work here, do you?"

"Yes. Within the cellars…various odd jobs. But, no. Erik and I actually came here together. Bless his poor soul…"

Raoul's eyes widened; he listened attentively, trying not to surrender to his physical suffering with his remaining strength.

"I was a Darogo—err, police cop in Persia, you see. Erik had worked within the palace walls for a fair amount of time… the palace walls which himself had built…"

"He built a Persian palace?" Raoul was stunned; he could not help but feel impressed by such an accomplishment.

"Oh, yes. Among many other marvels. You see, Raoul, the chamber which you and I are currently imprisoned in – well, it is merely a rebuild of the Persian torture chamber. Curse that vile queen! What a vile, vile monster she was…"

"Understood. But Nadir! My beautiful Christine is at his pitiful mercy as we speak, I would bet my life on it!"

"Ah, careful! Wouldn't be betting my life, my friend…"

"I do not have the time—nor energy—for your games. Please, I plead with you, help me rescue her. Please my good man. I love her, oh I love her more than my own self, Nadir." Raoul pinched his eyes, fighting his destined tears; Raoul knew he could not afford to lose the hydration.

Nadir stood, his body rowing back and forth. He limped to the reflective wall, pressing his ear against its cold surface. "We have been speaking, drowning out their ramblings."

Raoul stood with a newly established strength. He pressed his ear against the mirror, eagerly listening.

"It is too late, my dearest Christine… you have sentenced yourself – you will love Erik, forever!"

Nadir and Raoul helplessly listened to Christine's tears and losing battle in horror.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Thank you!


	23. LOVE

**LOVE**

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN **

Erik forced a trembling Christine in the grim direction of his own heavy, dragging steps. He proudly brought her before his mighty torture-chamber, a cynical grin plastered across his lips. From Christine's horrific stand point, the room was merely a large glass house; she could see everything. Christine threw her tiny hands over her quivering mouth, nearly fainting from pure terror.

Christine began madly pounding the glass, crying out to her helpless, suffering love with heart break.

Erik beckoned her with a cold chuckle, "Oh, my dearest Christine! You silly, silly child. This is one-way glass, dearest! Now, you can witness your Vicomte's death just as I have witnessed you, Christine love, your entire life, my dear! Unseen, hidden! Trapped behind cold glass!"

Christine broke into heavy tears as she witnessed Raoul gradually nearing his impending, scornful death.

"Christine, Erik's life has been nothing more then what you see before your own pretty eyes: a house of mirrors…all I have seen, and ever will, is a constant grave reminder of my own misery and torture, never the sweet life outside this cruel house of mirrors! THIS IS MY LIFE, CHRISTINE – A TORTUROUS DUNGEON OF MIRRORS… NO ESCAPE, NO MERCY….FORCED TO FALL INTO INSANITY'S LAP—FORCED TO MAKE A CHOICE: A LIFE OF MIRRORS, OR A BITTERSWEET RELEASE…DEATH!"

"Please, Angel, please, I beg you! Spare Raoul's life: it is I who should be punished, not he. Please, he has done nothing to deserve such twisted fate! Oh, Angel, you were once beautiful…" Christine's broken words trailed off, finding herself drowned in cold tears.

Erik's head bowed down in shame. "No, I do not wish to punish you, dearest! I wish to love you, keep you, celebrate our tender love - hand in hand, for better or for worse!"

Christine firmly gripped Erik's hands, rubbing them with rough affection. "Then what, Erik? What is it that you want from me, Erik? Why must you do this…why? I only ask you set Raoul free, and I will love you forever. You can keep me forever, my Erik. You and I, I will be your loving wife, if that is what you wish for. We shall bear children; fall asleep in each other's tired arms at the end of each spent day. Raoul deserves no part in this, my Erik… Erik, please!"

For several haunting moments, Erik fell in complete silence and serenity. "Your love no longer interests me, Christine."

"Then what, Erik!! WHAT? Whatever shall make you most happy, Erik, I will do!" Christine continued her desperate plea, madly caressing his broad shoulders, "Let me show you life does not have to be lived in darkness – lived alone, my poor Erik! Let me love you!"

An eerie silence filled Erik's underground lair for what seemed to be years. Christine studied Erik's eyes intensely; she was shocked to see he had begun to cry - heavily. Humiliated, Erik fetched his mask from the stone ground, pressing it over his foul flesh, finally surrendering to the world's will and his inevitable fate. With thick tears rolling down his heartbroken, embarrassed features, Erik shut off his torture-chamber's deadly illusions.

"Take him, and go my angel."

Erik devastatingly sat at his organ, not daring to look back at the person he loved more than himself; the person, he realized, he could never have. Erik held no interest or desire for Christine's pity, fear, or false affection. He ached for her love. And you cannot choose who you love. Erik knew this better than anyone else.

Erik's mask became removed, replaced by Christine's gentle hands. One hand affectionately stroked his disfigurement; the other hand tightly clenched his mask. Soon, her hand was replaced by incredibly soft lips. She kissed a moist trail to his tear-stained mouth. She smiled at him, pleading Erik to bask in her eyes' compassionate glow. Again, Christine kissed him. This time, a passionate kiss; a lover's kiss. She dropped his mask to the floor, fully embracing Erik tightly with both caring arms. He stood weakly, returning her kisses and hugs with a silent sigh of relief. His trembling hands found their way shyly through her velvet hair, and delicately around her fragile waist. Christine did not leave an inch of Erik's face untouched by her warm lips.

For nearly fifteen indescribable minutes, Erik and Christine stood as one entwined form, hugging dearly, madly crying into each other's lips and chest, completely absorbed in each other's tears and heartache.

Erik had experienced true compassion, true affection, and true love; with a tender heart, Erik could finally release his beautiful angel.


	24. EPILOGUE

**A GHOST'S LOVE STORY**

**EPILOGUE**

"_The Opera Ghost really existed." - Leroux_

_"To pain my heart selfishly dooms me,  
My senses have devoured my soul.  
This cruel love tortures, consumes me,  
Love I know I will never control._

__

Mad with passion, I bow before you,  
Till the day hell makes you my bride.  
I despise and adore you...  
I only want to die by your side."

_- The Phantom (Ken Hill musical)_

* * *

Raoul De Chagny looked upon his beloved's lone gravestone, compassion and heartache lining the depths of his distinguished gaze. It had been nearly twenty-five years since the tragic events of Opera Populaire. Twenty-five despairing years since the ghost's love story had met its end.

Raoul's faded face bowed, weighed down by ghostly memories. He mourned his loss, his childhood sweetheart, his beautiful Christine. Raoul's thoughts trailed to those haunting times, as they too often did…to thoughts of Christine's adoring Phantom and Angel. That beautiful angel in Hell. Raoul's eternal nemesis. Opera Populaire's beloved 'O.G.' Christine Daae's haunted Erik.

The Phantom of the Opera.

Christine and Erik's love, their shared passion, was an unearthly bond; one, he knew, the human race would never know.

Raoul couldn't help but wonder: what had become of her beloved Angel of Music, her scorned Erik, and his unrequited love? Raoul's head lifted; a glimmering band caught his eyes, offering closure to his silent question.

The familiar, golden ring was inseparably bound to folded parchment: a note addressed to the 'Vicomte De Chagny.' A note welted shut with a crimson skull, death's head; the Phantom's infamous mark.

Raoul held his breath as he undid the note's meticulous folds.

'_MONSIEUR DE CHAGNY:_

_You had stolen my Angel, condemned me to a life of bitter solitude, and turned Christine's cheek from the bottomless depths of my love. Our unfathomable passion, adoration. A transcending and unconditional bond, one, such as yourself, could never know. _

_For this, you shall forever remain in my shadow; method to my madness. _

_In all fairness, you too have eternally haunted myself, and continue to do so. Reminding me what I shall be always denied...My Christine Daae, my Angel of Music; such beauty I am undeserving of. Vicomte - know you have bestowed sin to the sinless._

_Yet, you have given my Christine the one thing I would forever deny her: life. _

_And, so, my good Vicomte, I hereby declare a truce amongst us. Our Christine has finally been put to rest—perhaps, now, the ghosts of our own pasts can be at last buried. _

_I remain your obedient and humble servant,_

_Erik.' _

Tears flooded Raoul's eyes as he acknowledged the inevitable.

He had owned Christine's heart; Erik would forever claim her soul.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Thought my first phic deserved a better conclusion. Thank you to everyone who had read - putting up with my sloppy writing! My messy first attempt at a phan-phiction. : P. OF COURSE...any final reviews/comments would be greatly appreciated!


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